


99 Problems But My Sex Life Ain't One

by Edwardina



Series: The Colferstreet Sexting 'Verse [4]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, No Porn, RPF, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <i>Kinda Busy</i>, <i>Chase Me</i>, and <i>Hung Up</i>.  After years of radio silence, the Glee cast's appearance on <i>Ellen</i> inspires Chord to text Chris again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	99 Problems But My Sex Life Ain't One

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about Will or his and Chris's relationship and have no desire to, but they are dating in this, unless I am super behind the times or something, so just be aware of the Chill factor in here.
> 
> Previously, I've always written this series as fics for Kink Bingo, but I just wrote this one out of Colferstreet feels given to me by the _Ellen_ appearance. Relevant gif sets: [x](http://christopherpaul.tumblr.com/post/113470585632/biggest-flirt), [x](http://christopherpaul.tumblr.com/post/113483454227/best-person-to-be-stranded-on-a-deserted-island), [x](http://colferschord.tumblr.com/post/113523861241). Title also from the _Ellen_ appearance, sorta.

_Hey how come you didn't pick me for biggest flirt??_

At this point, Chord Overstreet is only in Chris's contacts because it would feel incriminating if he wasn't. 

Since everything – all that, whatever it was they were doing – ended, they've only been in group texts with other _Glee_ cast and crew members, just the way they've both been on set at the same time and guests at the same events, milling with others and sometimes exchanging banal, meaningless chatter while standing around each other just because they kinda have to. It harkens right back to the early days of season two, when neither of them knew how to act around each other, ability to share easy conversation kneed right in the nuts due to the uncertainty as to whether their lips would soon be locking on TV in millions of households. Group texts and every now and again one of them liking something the other posts on Instagram are seriously the only kind of communication happening between them these days, so it's a definite shock to receive a direct text message from Chord.

Chris feels said shock as a wave of annoyance that crests and breaks over him as a kneejerked near-rage.

He's so pissed he's responding before he can cool his jets and think better of it.

_You fucking know why, asshole._

After he sends the words, he catches himself, so uncomfortable with his instant response and seemingly random lashing out that his already prickled neck grows hot.

He really wants to just instantly delete Chord's text off his phone. Some weak and therefore heavily guarded part of him is responding way too harshly and unhappily, even though it's been over two years since they broke up – 

No! No way. It was in no way a break-up! Thinking of it like that implies there was something far more going on with them than there was. It was always on and off anyway, intermittent. A bad habit. They just finally broke the habit, that's all! It's been years since they regained their senses, and Chris his freaking dignity, and put the breaks on all the endless teasing and, in retrospect, unhealthy and unfair weirdness. It had been just super wrong of them to, groan, "sext" in the first place, and Chris had kind of met somebody, and that made it feel even more wrong, and Chord was always meeting somebodies, and... it was just time to walk away. Well, way past time. But you know.

The only times Chris has really gone back there, mentally, and realized he actually engaged in that kind of stuff with stupid Chord of all people, he's swung pretty hard between self-pity (how embarrassing; what had he been thinking?) and a detached self-defensiveness (Chord did start it, and he was the one who was actually dating Emma Roberts at the time, so Chord had way more explaining to do about it than he did).

For the most part, he's compartmentalized the whole affair. Not that it was even an affair. It was just an odd situation Chris had gotten wrapped up in when work was piled so incredibly high that he was probably just really exhausted, sleep-deprived – not thinking and yet still needing. He was willing to admit to himself that he'd enjoyed the rush of being subject to Chord's attentions and interests. They were erratic, yeah, and in a way, hugely frustrating, but earnest and electrifying, too. He'd had his fair share of fun messing with Chord, too. But carrying on with it for so long was so stupid. Ultimately, Chris chalked the whole thing up to loneliness.

He got a cat.

He got a boyfriend.

 _We're still friends, though_ , he'd told Chord, since Chord seemed to care about their status as such.

 _Friends :)_ , was the agreeable response.

And that was the very last of it.

Since then, radio silence had ensued.

From what Chris could tell, his call for a halt hadn't seemed to have really affected Chord either way. He was as he ever was: sort of unfathomable and odd. They didn't talk that much in person. They never had. When they did, it was perpetually stilted, but it had always been that way, for some reason. Chord had never once been anything other than friendly. And he never changed his modus operandi of amicable shoulder-grips and half-baked joshing. Yet, a sense of ease and camaraderie had never welled in the space between them, which was confusing in its own right. That just left empty space which, to Chris, was palpable, even if he tried his damnedest to fill it with his own inane replies and jokes, or ignored it totally. Almost always, there was a strangeness to the air whenever Chord was standing next to him. It felt like a discomfort that had never fully gone away, even if it had mutated for a while into another strange energy that was an awkwardness and quandary of its own, too.

Working in TV has this effect of making the days long, so it seems like time is standing still, even as months pass in a haze of work. So, indeed, months passed. With the set split into two between New York and Ohio, he saw Chord even less than he had before. Other stuff – especially everything that happened with Cory – eventually completely overshadowed things that had happened prior. It was almost like it had never even happened.

But the mass hacking of the iClouds of various and numerous Hollywood starlets just last year had dragged it all out of the mental vault. Chris's fight-or-flight instincts shifted to red alert. Out of respect and also disinterest, Chris didn't look at any of the pictures, but he heard enough to get worried for himself. It wasn't just Jennifer Lawrence's boobs. It was everybody's. Becca, then Melissa and Lea... nobody was safe. Not that Chris was a starlet or that there were men being targeted, but it had abruptly seemed not only extremely possible but highly likely that some creep out there could easily stumble across, um, less wise pictures Chord had sent him. Chris didn't know the technicalities of it all, like if hackers could see to whom the pictures had been sent or anything like that, so he'd had a silent panic attack for about a month straight, just waiting for some kind of media bomb to go off, either on Chord or on the both of them. The pictures were coming out in bursts. He didn't hear anything about texts, but still, what if?

He'd considered texting Chord about it, but it hadn't seemed safe to even communicate with him via eye contact, lest that tempt the universe into unleashing its karma. It hadn't seemed safe for the exact same reason listing Chord as "biggest flirt" on a popular national television show hadn't seemed safe.

It's that whole smoke/fire thing, and the internet is not exactly safe, sane, and consensual. There are literally girls out there who think he and Darren are in love and their respective significant others are just elaborate ruses. There are ways some of _Glee_ 's uber-passionate fanbase spends time that creeps him right out.

For fuck's sake, what's wrong with Chord for not understanding that fans will make a huge thing out of nothing? Sometimes he seems just... borderline.

A minute later, a response.

_I was just kidding with you_

And another, quickly.

_Omg sorry. I'm an idiot! I knew u don't want me to text u. Sorry again._

"Uuuughhh," Chris lets out, loud and long and from the heart. Only Brian can hear him at the moment, and is only marginally interested in the fact that his daddy is grousing out loud to someone who isn't even there. "I swear to God! I'm not the jackass, here, so why do you always make me feel like one!"

Sighing, he thumbs out a message.

_No, it's fine. Sorry for my sour reply. I never said you're not allowed to text me ever again or anything. But seriously, why would I ever put you down as my answer for a question like that?_

_Again just a joke lol_

_Har dee har._

_Come on!!! Just wanted it to be unanimous_ , Chord says.

_You and your ego._

_But I heard u say I was a better answer! And I mean u did put me down for the nude colony so!_

_Well yes. Because you're a huge exhibitionist._

Chord's only response:

_;)_

Feet crossed under his desk chair, Chris stares at the whole exchange. He was seriously perturbed already, but feels downright rattled by that wink. It's really hard to ignore the fact that his pulse is thudding in his wrists, the fact that his train of thought is so freaking derailed that he can't even use the pauses between messages to put down a word on his laptop. It's just a conditioned response, right? The way he's done a one-eighty from angry at the sight of Chord's name to sort of wanting to tease him? And the rushing of his blood isn't voluntary.

It's stupid. None of it's anything other than Chord's usual dorky ribbing. Isn't it? It just has that feeling of being wrong because that's how it used to be.

Chris taps his fingers on his laptop's keyboard, unsettled, not looking the words on his monitor and also refusing to look at the screen of his phone. He doesn't hit any keys hard enough to actually produce a mashing of random letters, but the mild tapping noises are at least a baby step back towards working on his screen play.

Concentrate.

Concentrate, Christopher!

Only... he can't.

His phone's just right there. Chord's clearly got his in hand.

He picks it up again.

_And you said you'd want to be stranded on a desert island with me why exactly?_

Of course, Chord never responds. And there goes Chris's productive afternoon.

Karma, huh? Wow. Faster-acting than Chris remembers.

Giving into that deep initial urge, he deletes Chord's texts quickly, not letting himself reread them the way he once would have. There's no way he's indulging the part of him that's legitimately curious about that with anything to chew on. That part of him can just shut up because it's clearly stupid and deserves no sustenance.

Frustrated, he saves his work and closes his laptop, then gets up and abruptly starts cleaning, pretending he's not irritated in the least, or angry, or sort of exhausted by this entire week of press and repeated reminiscing to the media and digging up old memories, stumbling over feelings both good and bad.

Is that why Chord's doing this? Texting him? Is it, like, nostalgia? Or boredom? Can he not just text Mark or Darren?

If he could, Chris would totally just turn his phone off and put it in a drawer or something, but Will's out running with Cooper, and it would be weird if he wasn't able to get ahold of Chris if he needed to.

Much later that night, after heading out to dinner and drinks with a couple of friends, then coming back home to relax and revise what he'd written that morning and wearing Cooper out again with his favorite tennis ball, Chris gives his phone one last check before bed.

Twitter, he almost never looks at, unless he's got something to retweet or announce or he's just gotta quip, or some fellow industry person says they've DMed him. Twitter is frightening.

He has a hundred-something texts since his last check just before dinner, and he assumes most of them are from group messages he's in with friends. He's got emails from family, publicist, publisher; he's got scheduling and travel to figure out, constant information about new opportunities coming his way, Google alerts. A freshly-showered Will slides into bed beside him while he's replying to a few of these emails, rubs his arm, kisses his shoulder, and picks up his own phone so they can go through their nightly ritual of checking up on their stuff before they shut out the world. Gotta have boundaries.

Chris scrolls through Instagram (and there's Chord, with his fingers splayed inscrutably). Rather than take even a second's pause to try and figure out what he's doing, where he is, who he's with, Chris scoots right past.

Finally, he combs through his texts. And yes, most of them are group text pileups, conversations the various cliques he's party to are having. Plans, jokes, pet pictures, rumor mill. But the thing is, Chord has texted him, too... like, a bunch.

"Um, I," blurts Chris, hit again with that overwhelming feeling of... wrong... since he's tingling all over with the spike of adrenaline he remembers so well from 2011.

"Something wrong?" wonders Will.

"No, no, I just... smelling you makes me kinda want to take a shower after all," says Chris. He doesn't know where the careful modulation of his voice comes from any more than he knows why he's saying those words. It's just totally automatic. He manages to make it sound like it only just occurred to him and it's mildly annoying him, since he's already in his pajamas. "I mean, I had one this morning, but my hair still smells like pad thai."

Will just looks at him. "Shower, then! I'll wait up for you."

"Yeah... you're right. I'm gonna," says Chris, pushing the blanket off him with his phone in one hand. He pauses to lean over and give Will a little kiss, his stomach feeling pretty low and his heart tight about the fact that he doesn't dare read these texts around, let alone in the same bed as, his boyfriend. He slides off the mattress and pads towards the bathroom.

The thing is, he knows that Chord's currently chilling with Joe Jonas somewhere where there are lots of people, and that there's no way Chord's texted him anything... weird. Or untoward. It's just that he's only accustomed to his heart rate creeping up on him when he's texting with Chord. Even if he doesn't want it to, and even if the texts don't warrant it at all. He was fucking furious earlier over nothing, really, and now he's exasperated, and the inner commotion is unsettling. It doesn't matter what Chord says. Chris needs just a minute to process whatever it is. A shower will give him that chance.

Chris glimpses himself clutching his phone in the mirror and moves away from it purposefully. The shower door's still riddled with water droplets from Will's shower. He leans past the door and twists the shower on, the rushing water echoing in the space, then lets himself take a few moments to scroll to the texts from Chord. Without their earlier conversation in the window, they look totally random, these little broken thoughts.

_Duh!_

_You're super smart. You'd have us outta there in no time!_

_Ppl would search for u, everyone loves u_

_Deff find u_

_Or if not u would be good at building shelter probably_

_Weaving??_

_Like palm friends you know_

_*fronds_

_Tree house!!!_

_Depends on the island_

_I can start a fire_

_Im good at hunting_

_And fishing_

_But u would paint the best Wilson face_

_Really just want to see ur beard lol_

_Plus u already know I'll be naked, day one_

Chris's teeth dig into his lower lip; his huffing breaths are definitely a laugh, but smiling seems over the top, too pleased or something.

He types back, neutrally, _I can't tell whether your main inspiration is Cast Away or Blue Lagoon._

Appropriately (or rather, inappropriately), Chris is doffing his underwear when Chord's reply pops up.

_Was cast away but on second thought blue lagoon. Sexier_

_Yeah right. You'll be sexy. I'll just burn and burn. I'll become a human lobster._

_lol why we build a palm house! Keep that skin lily white that way we can flash u in the sun when planes fly over_

The shower's still running. Chris is still standing there, naked save his glasses, unwilling to put his phone down since Chord is awake, out there somewhere, clearly not terribly busy to be texting back so quickly. He doesn't even know what he wants to say, or what he wants Chord to say... which is the terrible thing, he realizes. To have even the slightest confusion over where this conversation is headed and why it's even happening.

_You've got this all worked out._

_Gotta have a game plan_

_Giving it a lot of thought, are you?_

_Not that much, its just obvious, common sense_

_Oh, admit it! You just still desperately want me to see you naked._

A minute ticks by without a reply.

Great. Fantastic. That bodes super well.

Chris shamefully banishes himself to the shower, turns the water from hot to cool, and smushes his face into his hands as he shivers under the flow, feeling his own stupidity flood and chill his veins more effectively than the water.

No, no, no! Why! God, why?

It felt like this.

With everything having been locked away tightly in the recesses of his mental drawers, never to be accessed, he'd actually really and truly managed to forget what this awkward dancing around and daring to say more felt like. He'd forgotten how Chord surprised him, confused him, randomly coming on confidently then backing away. It made his heart pound... but back in 2011, it was even wilder, even more dangerous, even more of a weird thrilling sexy mind game that Chris discovered he was extremely good at playing. God, Chord had even told him outright he was good at it!

He didn't get it then, the how of it or the why of it, and doesn't get it any more now that he's older and wiser and so much has changed. Why is it like this with Chord? (Chord, of all people!) What's the difference? Having flirted with another guy via text and gotten actual sex in the end, obviously a much better and healthier deal even sans real relationship, it seems fucking impossible that texting with Chord could somehow be exciting. They're not even actually sexting, or flirting outright, and still, Chris has already gone right through that nonsensical looking glass, fallen right down that rabbithole where everything is upside-down.

Well-doused in cold water and shame and knowing there's someone waiting for him, Chris quickly soaps up, rinses off, and steps onto the bath mat, grabbing blindly for a towel and for his glasses, and then his phone. He's right back to that place where he is fully going to delete their conversation, and whatever it is Chord has to say, again.

_Hey ur the one who brought up my personal nudity_

_Seem to remember u being interested in that..._

After another few-minute pause, Chord continued, clearly interpreting the silence as disinterest, _My bad. That was a long time ago :) Still miss it._

Chris grasps the countertop, startled enough to feel dizzy, like he's stood up too fast or just gotten off a rollercoaster.

Unable to stop himself, he taps back with a wet thumb, _U do?_

_Sure :)_

Oh, so casual! If only we could all be as casual as Biggest Flirt, Chord Overstreet!

Still, Chord's not exactly alone in that; the stupid side of Chris misses supposedly-straight Chord coming back to him again and again, wanting his attention, getting off on it, and sending him pictures of jizz on the back of his hand. He doesn't want Chord to know it, and he doesn't want that response to even be inside him, lurking around, making mental noise. He doesn't want to want any of that. Obviously he can't say he misses it, too. Even if he wants to.

Really, what would it hurt if he did – ?

_Me too._

_Oh??!!_ The word is followed up a second later. _Well now Im boned in public, awkward_

Chris loses his breath, gasps for it; he wants to throw his phone into the sink and smash it. He wants to text, _Oh, fuck you, Chord, for even telling me that and for dragging me into this!_ And he wants to text, _Oh, that big dick of yours misses it too, huh?_ That's what Chord always responded to, his obvious biggest button, and it was always so easy to get him going that way... get him angling for more.

Instead: _I can't._

It's clipped.

Accusingly, he adds, _You know that._

 _I know! U said. I didn't forget,_ Chord says.

There's a pause, because Chris doesn't know what to say, or how this happened – how it degenerated so quickly. It's suddenly really obvious to him that it isn't so much a bad habit as... addiction. They went cold turkey and now one tiny hit has him jonesing for more. But he's in control. He just shut it down again, he's pretty sure. And even though it's the right thing to do, he already regrets it so much it hurts, and as much as he'd love to take all that frustration out on Chord, cuss him out and level all the blame at the guy, it's really all his own fault, and he knows it.

Chord breaks the silence.

 _Just miss it. Texting u, its hard to not get hard! Lol_ , says Chord, and immediately tacks on, _Jk? Or not ;) U decide!_

With his heart still beating entirely too hard for comfort, Chris tells him, _OK, you have convinced me. I officially concede. You are the biggest flirt. Happy?_

_I'd be happier if it worked :) But, yes :)_

_No, it's very effective, trust me. Look, I can't do this right now, have to go to bed, will's waiting up,_ Chris manages in a nervous, typo-filled rush, which autocorrect mostly catches for him.

_Cool_

_Night, tease!_

_Later :)_

The word disappears after only a heartbeat of existing on his screen, as Chris rigorously deletes all the texts as fast as he can, struggling to also dab at himself with a towel. Despite the chilly shower, his dick's stubbornly stiff, unwilling to be fooled or calmed or overridden by something as asinine as logic. It still knows this feeling and what it leads to: the best he's ever felt jerking off, and some of the hottest, hugest orgasms he's had, with or without someone else.

Once the texts are gone, Chris just powers his damn phone off, sticks it in the bathroom drawer, and flips the bathroom light off again.

Will, still lazing around with his phone, looks startled to see him emerging butt naked save his glasses, totally erect, and still mostly wet from the shower – Chris's mind, of course, leaps treacherously right back to the first time he'd ever gotten into it with Chord, the flirting, the overt interest Chord seemed to be showing, the frustration, because he'd taken a shower then flopped right into bed bare and damp and everything he'd stuffed down and forcibly forgotten is coming back to him so vividly now – but the expression on his face is hardly displeased.

"Hey," Will pretty much purrs, abandoning his phone on the nightstand as Chris crawls onto the bed.

"I want you to fuck the living daylights out of me," Chris whispers intently. "But first –"

His boyfriend gives him an amenable, impressed groan at the outright demand, reaching out for him. "Oh, no wonder you wanted to shower..."

It's true enough that that's often a thing Chris wants to do before just about anything, but not in this case. Still, he flirts back.

"...You caught me. Now what are you gonna do with me?"

Smiling, Will leans in and captures him in a kiss, which Chris pulls out of after only a tease of a moment.

"Hmm?" he presses.

"C'mere and I'll show you."

"Tell me," Chris refutes lightly, bumping their noses together in a coaxing rub. "I wanna hear."

"You do?"

"Mm. In graphic detail."

"Ah... so you're in that kind of mood," says Will, and at least it's knowingly. Amenable to the game of it all, he allows Chris to climb on top him and reach over to the bedside table to open its drawer, scrounging for lube, asking, "You want me to beg for it? Hear how much I want it? Till you give in and let me have that ass?"

Chris closes his eyes. "Uh-huh."


End file.
